


A Delayed Prelude

by chromission



Series: Catch Me If You Can [4]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Attempt at Humor, Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, a dream sequence gets thrown in there, avoid conversations with your boss in the restroom, buzzfeed unsolved au, errrr typos?, i never think right at 3 am aright, pay your damn phone bills, stock up on milk, stolen cereal and peanut butter, tinsley is done with everything, treat your houseplants with care, we're getting somwhere in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 19:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14600292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromission/pseuds/chromission
Summary: A series of mishaps involving one infamous criminal muddles a detective’s track record for the past year.  With C.C. Tinsley’s career down the drain, Ricky offers a proposal benefiting them both.If Tinsley accepts, he’ll go against the law.Who knows, maybe being in cahoots with the criminal you were pursuing ain’t all that bad.





	A Delayed Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm you'll wanna read the previous fics in this series before getting here. There are gonna be references to the previous work.
> 
> Previously on Catch Me If You Can:  
> __________________________________________  
> After the events in [Manhattan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096544) and [Boston](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14186328) in which a high-profile criminal who’s managed to stay unknown to most, Ricky Goldsworth had several run ins with an underrated and unlucky detective, C.C. Tinsley.
> 
> He has managed to elude the detective till he decides to invite C.C. Tinsley on an escapade for a change in pace in [Glasgow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328459) which doesn’t go all too well. With growing mutual intrigue Tinsley departs from Goldsworth and Glasgow to rethink his efforts in pursuing Goldsworth.

 

 

1995

Location: West Virginia, BFU Investigations Ltd.

Time: 10:08

 

 

Three stalls. Three urinals. Two sinks.

 

Drip.

 

One of the faucets seem to have a loose pipe. Their occurrence is satisfying to _predict_.

 

Tinsley stands in front of the left most urinal and keeps his eyes on the ceiling as he unzips his pants.  A figure appears beside him and he knits his eyebrows together, eyes still on the ceiling’s plaster.

The sound of two steady streams hitting porcelain are deafening.

Tinsley takes a glance at the man beside him and sees his superior officer, J. J. Bittenbinder.

Bittenbinder lets out a loud sigh.

 

“Tinsley…”

 

Zip.

 

“Uhm yes, sir?”  Tinsley lets out unsure.

 

“You’re fired.”

 

Drip.

 

* * *

A jingle of the door echoes out in an apartment before it unlocks. A light kick to the door fully opens it.  There stood Tinsley, one arm wrapped around a potted cactus and in the other, a box of full of stationary and folders.

In the bright middle of noon, Tinsley feels nothing but exhaustion. With lethargy seeping into his bones comes a liberating tingle. The contradiction seems to be welcomed familiarity.

He sets the cactus on the coffee table and drops the box on the floor when he hears rustling coming from the kitchen.

Tinsley reaches for his right hip out of habit and remembers that a holster wouldn’t be there. He eyes his telephone and remembers he hasn’t paid its bill for quite some time.

The sound of cabinets and drawers opening are accompanied by snickers. Tinsley grabs the pot holding his overpriced cactus and creeps to his kitchen.

In all his years in the field, Tinsley’s mind could only concoct a half baked self defence plan involving a house plant.  

 

_Dear reader, I’d advise you to leave your cactus and your home in similar circumstances._

 

Familiar purple curls come into view. The short figure had her back towards him and had a box of cereal shaking above a bowl. She opens the refrigerator and mumbles out “How does he have three jars of pickles but no milk?”

“He must use pickle juice as a replacement.”  says an amused voice.

 “Ricky?” Tinsley steps into full view in front of the two intruders, lowering his hands.

Ricky sits atop the kitchen counter with his swaying legs dangling a few inches above the floor. His hands holding what appears to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Francesca leans against the fridge doors, crosses her legs and pokes at the dry cereal.

“There you are, Tinsley! Took you long enough. We’ve heard you come in a few minutes ago!” comes Ricky’s voice, no doubt muffled with a mouth full of bread. “You remember Francesca, don’t you?”

Francesca takes a spoon full of cereal and stuffs her mouth before waving to Tinsley enthusiastically.

Tinsley looks back to his front door before speaking.

“How’d you guys know where I lived and how’d you get in here?” he pauses and notices an opened jar of strawberry jam beside Ricky and the loud crunches from Francesca’s mouth.

“Are you eating my food?” Tinsley points at them accusingly with the cactus.

“Far too many questions this early in the morning, Tin-man.” Ricky chides.

“It’s almost one in the afternoon.” Tinsley retorts.

“Mmm… it got tiring keeping track of time zones” Francesca adds.

A grumble emanating from Tinsley’s stomach reminds him of his missed meals. He ignores Francesca and Ricky for the time being and forces his legs to bring him to the fridge.

Seeing this, Francesca moves away and hops onto the counter beside Ricky where they start to discuss about steam engines.

Tinsley opens the fridge’s door and peers inside. He trades the cactus for a can of carrot juice, leaving the plant on a rack beside a tray of eggs. He plops to the floor and leans against a wall opposite of the two uninvited guests.

“Well, how was your day, detective Tinsley?” Francesca beams.

Tinsley cringes, but he decides not to be spiteful in answering. “I ain’t _detective_ Tinsley anymore.”

Amusement lit Ricky’s features upon understanding.

“Aw that’s a shame. I wanted to you to come up with a scrapbook of me! Pretty sweet of you to make one of Ricky G. over here.”

“Scrapbook?”

Tinsley looks up to see Francesca holding a folder in front of her face. She leans over to Ricky and points at something in the file.

“Look at that, boss! This dapper little doodle be you.”

 

 

 

Ricky peels a yellow sticky note off the file for closer inspection. “Aww can I keep it, Tinsley?”

Tinsley launches himself off the floor and snatches the folder out of Francesca’s hands.

“It’s not a scrapbook!” he indignantly huffs “It’s a dossier.”

With the sandwich gone from Ricky’s hands, he takes hold of the peanut butter jar that still had a butter knife embedded in it. He looks at a befuddled Tinsley before swiping a generous dollop of peanut butter against the blade. He whips it out of the jar and points it at Tinsley.

“Say…you know so much already.” Ricky uses the knife to point to the folder in Tinsley’s hands.

“I mean, you are missing a lot of details” he hops off the counter and saunters towards Tinsley, who paces a few steps back from the smaller man.

“You know…too much.”

Ricky’s dull expression and glassy eyes keep Tinsley in place. The stagnant air weighs down Tinsley’s lungs and squeezes his stomach.

 

“Tinsley, how would you like to work for me?”

 

“What?”

 

Ricky places the knife in his mouth and yanks the half-cleaned blade out with raised eyebrows.

“A business proposition!” Francesca chimes, still swinging her short legs atop the kitchen counter.

 

“Work for you? Are you insane!?” Tinsley flails.

He is given a single raise of the brow by both Francesca and Ricky.

“Okay, just because I let you go… on several occasions doesn’t mean I’m willing to disregard-“

“Aha! See that Fran! He admits to letting me go!” Ricky points.

“I mean he kinda sucked at his job, boss.” Francesca retorts

“He managed to find me, Fran. Do give him some credit.”

Tinsley opens the fridge and tosses the folder onto the shelf that the cactus sat on. He walks away without seeing if the door shuts. He paces around the kitchen; his feet unconsciously follow the black on the checkered tiles. He stops and shuts his eyes; his hand makes its way on his hip and he sips his drink annoyed.

 

“You can get your job back.” Ricky grins, knowing that he has Tinsley’s full attention. “On second thought, I’m confident enough to assume that you don’t want to go back to BFU, so how does your own firm sound?”

 

Tinsley laughs humorlessly “Nice bribe, Goldsworth. Not happening.”

 

Ricky bites down on the tip of the knife and grins. His image leans toward suggestive and unsettling. He lets the blade run between his teeth when he pulls it out, releasing a wince-inducing pang.  The sound makes Francesca and Tinsley wiggle their heads and scrunch their noses.

“How about Ricky Goldsworth going under the spotlight.” Ricky gleams.

One of Tinsley’s brow juts up, warranting some elaboration.

“It’s irritating when you don’t get credit for hard work, ain’t it Tinsley?” Ricky drawls.

The jabbing reminder of his time at BFU makes Tinsley’s brows deepen the creases in his face at the statement. He braces himself for any taunting that may come.

“I mean c’mon, last week, some idiot was charged with the disappearance of those Spanish diamonds.” Ricky mutters.

Before Ricky continues, Tinsley immediately sees that Ricky was referring to his egomaniacal self.

 

The counterintuitive nature of Ricky’s bargain began to dawn on the former detective.

 

“You’re going to out yourself for the publicity?” Tinsley asks.

 “Hold on, I’m not done yet.” Ricky shakes the butter knife in front of Tinsley’s face, “On top of that- the names under particular crime networks around this country. Picture that; a grand reputation paired with your own firm! A newspaper with me on the headline to shove down your colleagues’ throats at BFU”

“This grand package deal is quite the steal, Tin-man.” Francesca says.

 

“That’s a lot for me just to hang out with you, Goldsworth. A tad bit much, I’d say.”

“I’m a generous man.”

 

“What’s the job?” Tinsley huffs

“It’s a surprise!”  

“Goldsworth!”

“Oh, calm your tinsels, Tinsley! Just your good ol fashion extraction. It might get Indiana Jonesy or something!”

 

“What is the point of all this and paying for it with a bounty on your name?”

“Aww, don’t want anyone else chasing after me, _detective_?”

Tinsley couldn’t help but give a scoff.

 

“Like you said, credit and publicity.”

The look on Ricky’s face almost convinced Tinsley.

 

“How do I know you won’t screw me over, huh?”

 

“You won’t” Francesca and Ricky say in unison.

“And if I say no?”

“Why would you say no?”  
“You’re awfully confident I’ll accept.”

 

“Tell you what, I’ll let you sleep on it and you can tell me what you’ve decided.” Ricky tilts his head to Francesca, which prompts her to toss a Nokia 1011 to Tinsley.

 

Tinsley watches Francesca hop off the counter top and follow Ricky heading towards the back door, still holding on to the jar of peanut butter and knife.

“I’ll be hearing from you!” Ricky calls out as he crosses the threshold. The faint click of the door acted like a snap back to reality. Tinsley sets the phone on the counter. Keeping his eyes on the dusty floor, he sees it transition to a dull beige when he brings himself the living room. His monotonous movements set him to the front of the sofa and crash into the stiff cushion. His mind disengages from his surroundings and pull his lids over his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Drip.

 

A bead of water lands on Tinsley’s forehead. It struggles to trickle down his dry skin. The sensation prompts his hand to wipe it.

_Hold on now dear reader, take notice of the beige carpet, for it has been replaced with cold vinyl flooring. The dimensions of the room have shrunk. A dull office desk takes the TV stand’s place._

_Ah, this is his office._

_Scratch that._

_This was his office._

Tinsley lets out a curious hum when he finds his either of his hands immobile.

His hands are bound to the arm rests of an office chair with handcuffs -and so are his ankles. The chair begins to spin despite being unprompted. From a slothful to a nausea-inducing twirl, Tinsley flails and yelps.

A light slap of white hits his face and he realizes that his seat has stilled. A sheet of paper has pasted itself to his now sweat covered face.

He hears a shuffle of feet before him.

Before he could utter a word, the sheet is peeled from his face but is left dangling in front of him. Tinsley looks up to see the hand belonged to J.J. Bittenbinder.

 

“Sir?” Tinsley prompts.

Bittenbinder stays silent and wiggles the sheet impatiently.

 

Tinsley scans his eyes over the paper and recognizes it to be

his performance evaluation.

 

 ** Attendance & Punctuality ** :  non-existent as of late 

** Judgement & Decision-Making ** :  abysmal -blew travelling budget numerous times (refer to Cancun, Glasgow etc)

 ** Reliability: **     decent researcher

 ** Additional Comments ** : obsessed with a non-existent perp “Ricky Goldsworth”

 

Tinsley couldn’t bring himself to read the full report. He feels his chair turning again and with one full revolution, Bittenbinder is gone.

His office is gone. In its place is a cold void and Tinsley holds his rising panic.

 

Drip.

 

When the chair slows to a stop, something moves from the corner of his eyes. Tinsley hears a muffled voice- a distorted mantra echoing

 

“Wasting your time…”

“What kinda name is Goldsworth?”

“Stole your peanut butter…”

The voice is familiar.

The voice irked Tinsley.

An obnoxious metallic crash fills the air. The sound makes him flinch.

From the corner of Tinsley’s eye is Brent on a unicycle, riding by in circles all while holding cymbals like a deranged toy monkey running on double A batteries.

 

“Tinsley you’re…”  Brent hollers “Tinsley! You’re fired!”

 

Drip.

 

* * *

 

 

Tinsley opens his eyes to see the bland pasty white surface of his ceiling. His eyes blink several more times for good measure. He gives his scalp a good scratch before letting a gruff huff. He sees a damp spot on the ceiling, where the surface waits for the moisture to form droplets. Must be a burst pipe.

 

Tinsley realizes that he hasn’t dreamt in a while.

 

He walks back to the kitchen, genuinely amused to see the phone still sitting on the counter top; a jar of opened strawberry jam and scattered cereal crumbs lay beside it. Proof to ground Tinsley that he in fact had a conversation with two very real albeit comical individuals.

He takes it into his hand fiddles with it. He finds a single number in its contact, under “R.G.”

His finger hovers over the green button for a brief moment.

Accepting Goldsworth’s proposal may be the worst or best decision that he could make, but without a doubt, Tinsley knew his life was meant to tangle with Ricky Goldworth’s.

The notion willed his thumb to press the button.

The first ring didn’t manage to finish when abruptly cut by an overexcited bounce of babbling in the background.

 

“Oh Tinsel-boy! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

 

Tinsley looks up at the clock to see that it has only been over two hours since they’re last saw each other. Without being aware of what his body is doing, he walks over to the fridge to open it. He bends down to eye level with the cactus and presses the phone closer to his cheek.

 

“When do we start?”

 

 

 

_-to be continued-_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote half of this while on allergy pills and alcohol and rolled with it. Editing this and rereading it felt like a fever dream.  
> -Yep I HAD to draw that™  
> *i'm not sure if the picture is showing up for you guys  
> -comments are always welcome ;)  
> -for those who watched John Mulaney’s recent stuff, you’ll know who J.J. Bittenbinder is ;)


End file.
